Sweet Uncertainty
by Poliahu
Summary: To live in any way, shape, or form is a wonderful thing. How far will one man go to relive what he once had?
1. This is plot

Disclaimer:  I don't own Big O or its characters.  

A/N:  Hey there!  I was watching TV and came across a Harvey Keitel movie.  Since he's one of my favorite actors I continued to watch it.  I don't know what the movie is called but this fic is going to be loosely based on it.  Have fun reading it and don't forget to tell me what you think.  My first Big O fic, hope you like it.

A black line will indicate scene changes.

            "No, no, no.  You're missing the point completely.  Art is art for the sake of expression, not for the sake of skill."  Roger reached down to put more of the oil paints on his pallet.  

"But if you aren't skilled you can't really call it art."  

"That's not true."

"Would you call the doodling of a two year old art?"

"I don't really think a two year old is capable of creating art, Dorothy.  Plus, that isn't the point.  If you are expressing yourself, you are creating art."

"Maybe the two year old _is expressing himself."  Roger looked around the easel and gave her one of those 'you-know-what-I-mean-so-stop-making-things-difficult' looks.  "Besides, I never said you were bad.  I just said that you weren't skilled."_

"Dorothy, I'm really getting…"

"Master Roger, so sorry to interrupt…"  Norman had entered the room without them noticing.  "…but Major Dastun called and said there is a large mecha in one of the domes."

"Did he say which one?"  Roger had already taken off his apron and put on his uniform-like black suit.  

"No, he was cut off."

"No matter, I'm sure I'll be able to find it soon enough."  He sprinted towards the door and just as he approached it the ground shook violently.  Roger braced himself on the knob to keep from falling.  "I think I've just found it."  He turned around a raced to the balcony, where he summoned his megadeus.  

"Wait for me."  Dorothy called after him.

"No, stay here."  He said, hopping into the cockpit, but pausing to give her a reassuring glance.

"I didn't want to go with you anyway."  The monotone in her voice always made it hard to pick up the sarcasm, but it was there.  When you're close to someone you understand hidden meanings.  

"Be careful, Master Roger."  Norman piped up.  Roger had almost forgotten he was there.  "I'll postpone din…" he was cut off when the earth quaked again.

"I've got to run."  The cockpit closed and Norman and Dorothy watched as Big O took off to the other side of the dome.  

"How soon will he be back?"  Dorothy asked of the man behind her.  There was the sound of a door shutting.

"Not soon enough, dear."  An alien voice said behind her.  She turned in time to see a man dressed in a gold suit hit Norman in the back of the head, sending him limply to the ground.  The man was flanked by two others dressed in black.

"Beck"  

"It flatters me that you remember my name.  Boys, do your work."

            Dan Dastun cringed as a building was knocked down.  "I hate this.  Why can't we just get rid of all the robots?"  

"Umm…because we don't have the firepower."  One of the privates answered beside him.

"It was a rhetorical question."  He said dryly.

"Oh…"  

            Roger Smith grunted as he pushed one of Big O's arms forwards, grabbing what resembled the neck of the gold hued robot in front of him.

"You look really stupid with that antenna coming off of your head.  Let me do you a favor."  Big O reached out and pulled the antenna off the top of its enemy's head.  Suddenly the lights in the other robot went out and it went as limp as a large metal robot can go.  

"That's odd."  He dropped mangled pile of metal and kicked it.  Roger shrugged and began pushing some buttons in the cockpit.  Big O bent down, picking up the 'dead' robot and tossed it in the direction of the sea, where it sank to its watery grave. 

            He shut the heavy doors through which he had entered.  "Norman?"  He called; it was odd the elder man hadn't greeted him when he walked in.  "Norman?"  A bit louder this time.  He continued walking toward his chambers.  "Norman!"  This time more irritated than questioning.  "This isn't funny."  

He made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom.  The lights were off but the balcony doors were still open.  "What the hell?"  Norman always kept them closed in accordance with Roger's private lifestyle preferences.  He stepped forward to close them but tripped over something unmoving on the ground.  He rushed back to the other side of the room and flipped on the light switch.  

"Norman!"  He sprinted to where Norman lay and checked his pulse.  He smiled faintly when he felt it beating strongly.  Roger rolled him onto his back and lightly slapped his face.  When the man's eyes fluttered open let out a sigh.  "What happened?"

"I don't know, sir."  The old man rubbed the back of his head and jumped when his hand ran over a large bump.  

"Do you want me to get you some water?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Where's Dorothy?"

"I don't know.  She was standing on the balcony and asked me how soon you would be back.  After that I don't remember."  Roger moved swiftly to the balcony but stopped suddenly at what he saw.  Scattered all over the floor were pieces of Dorothy.  Wires, circuits; her left arm had been sawed off.  The program disk that was kept in her hair band was shattered in pieces near her stiff body.  Even the faint glow of light that was usually emitted from her eyes was gone.  

He dropped to his knees and tried to pick up the pieces of the disk, but soon gave up for they were too numerous to put back together.  He closed the circuit plate and picked up her arm.  He examined it for a moment, fighting to hold it still.  The sound of metal hitting metal could be heard as he tried to reattach her arm by shoving it back in the socket.  

Norman shuffled to where Roger was hunched over, eyes widening as he saw the younger man trying to put the pale android back together.  "Sir, I don't think that's the best thing to do."

"But I can put her back together, Norman."  His voice was hopeless and soft.  Tears weren't flooding Roger's eyes, but Norman knew him well enough to know that inside he was screaming.  

"Why don't you let me try it?"  He kneeled next to him "I'll fix her if you take her down to the shop for me.  I have proper tools down there and it will go a lot quicker than this nonsense you are doing."

Roger looked at him coldly, his indifferent 'negotiator' mask slamming any feelings he was showing behind it.  He slipped an arm under Dorothy while Norman picked up her arm.  "I trust you Norman."

"I know you do."  He began exiting the balcony.  "I know you do."

            Roger was a strong man, but was visibly fatigued from the weight of the android.  

"Put her on the table, Roger."  Norman had gotten several tools out and was beginning to rewire the arm.  Roger followed the orders and stepped back after he had set his burden down.  

"How long will this take you?"  He was obviously anxious to get her back.

"I don't know.  I don't really know that much about androids.  I might be able to figure it out, though.  All night maybe."

"Why do you think this happened?  Who would want to do this?  Why would they want to do this?"  His gaze drifted over the lifeless body.  Not that she ever, technically, had life.  But her just being there was another presence.  Different from the presence that Norman brought.  It was a more intimate one.  Not in a sexual way-but he did have fantasies about that now and then.  His thoughts were stumbling all over themselves, contradicting one another.

"Maybe we should answer those inquires one at a time.  It's late, why don't you go to bed.  I'll be here in the morning."

"And I'm thankful for that."  He turned to leave the shop.  "Thanks."

"It's all right, sir.  Just get some rest."  Roger smiled at his friend and ascended the stairs.

            He had changed into his silk pajamas and was slipping under the sheets when he noticed a piece of paper on the pillow.  He flipped on the bedside lamp and opened the folded note.

            _To my dearest friend, Roger Smith_

_While sitting in my horrible decorated cell I couldn't help but think about the reason I was there.  If it weren't for you I wouldn't have been in that abomination of taste in the first place.  I had plenty of time to sit and seethe about you and that asinine robot of yours (really that thing would look better if it had a decent paint job).  But, after realizing there was nothing I could do to reverse things, I began plotting ways to get back.  The first thing that came to mind was destroying your megadeus; but it was already painfully clear that that was a little out of my reach.  So my thoughts drifted to your wonderful little android.  Ah yes, Dorothy.  Since I couldn't have her for my own personal plans of crime, I decided it wasn't fair for you to have her either.  By now she is little bits and you are probably crying like the little boy you are.  Well, as much fun as this is to write, I must be off, for my work is finished._

_                                                                                                                                        Beck_

_p.s.-Don't waste your time putting her back together.  I think you'll find that without her little program disk she is just a pile of metal.  I'm a nice guy, saving you time with that little tip._

Roger bared his teeth as he closed crushed the paper in his fist.  His pain faded away as anger took over.  So Beck was behind this?  He should have known.  He was the only enemy sick enough to do something like this.  Was it true what he had written about the program disk?  There was only one way to find out.  Roger jumped out of bed and ran back to the shop.

                                                                                                                   _To be continued…_

Malevolent Angel says:  Well kiddies, I hoped you liked the first installment.  It's up to you guys if this gets continued or not.  If you review will ideas/likes/dislikes I'll try and incorporate what you said in the next chapter.  But there is only going to be a next chapter if you review!  Oh yeah, for this to work you kinda have to accept that Roger has a thing for Dorothy.  That said I'll get more into the main plot in the next few chapters, that is, if you want me to continue this thing.  One more thing, this fic will probably get NC-17 in later chapters.


	2. Can't think of a chapter name at the mom...

No, you're not dreaming. This fic is really getting updated. I'm not much of an advocate of this "no NC-17" policy ff.net has put into effect, BUT, hopefully this will help people writing good fics that don't have graphic sex to get readers. I admit, I put sex in a lot of my stories just to get them read, not because it was important to the plot. Now enough preaching and on with the fic.  
  
  
  
Roger descended the basement stairs with the urgency of a madman, hopping over banisters and skipping several steps at a time. He hit the bottom running and shot through the corridor. Flinging the doors open he burst into Norman's laboratory.  
  
"Sir, I." Norman stammered quickly slamming the phone down, cutting off his conversation with the person on the other end.  
  
"I found a note from Beck, he did this."  
  
"I'm afraid she can't be reactivated. Without her control disk, I can't do anything."  
  
"Can't you make a new one?" Distraught, Roger ran his hand through his messed up hair. Norman sighed and grasped his friend by the shoulders, turning him toward the doors.  
  
"Maybe it would be best for both of us to call it a night." Hanging his head, Roger shuffled into the hall and up the stairs. "We'll work on her again in the morning and I'll look into making a new disk."  
  
"That would be good." Roger turned to the older man "I trust you, Norman, to make her whole again." Norman smiled faintly.  
  
"I shall do my best."  
  
~*~  
  
They had her. He was doing all he could, fighting wildly as they pulled her away from him, kicking and screaming. His hand shot out, grabbing hers in a death like grip, but her cold skin slowly slid from his fingers.  
  
Roger sat up in an instant, eyes burning from the morning light trickling in through the drapes. Falling back onto the pillow he gave a small sigh and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had been fighting this dream all night. Every time he had her hand in his only to be pulled away.  
  
He contemplated getting up but decided against it, opting to spend some more time in bed. He lay there staring at the ceiling the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon, occasionally dropping off into a light doze.  
  
Suddenly Norman came into the bed room, rousing him from one of these naps.  
  
"Sir, I've already called and cancelled three appointments. But Major Dastun called and said your assistance is needed in dome two."  
  
"He needs Big O?"  
  
"Yes, that's what he said."  
  
"Too bad." Roger answered monotonously.  
  
"But master Rog."  
  
"I said too bad! Now leave me alone." Roger shoved his head under the pillow.  
  
"This is really no way to act; Dorothy not being here shouldn't affect your ability to protect the city."  
  
"Norman. Get. Out." He could take a hint, but the city was in danger. He debated dragging Roger from bed, but decided it wouldn't do any good if he wouldn't pilot the mega dues. Straightening himself, Norman turned on his heel and exited the room.  
  
Two hours later he was back, wheeling a cart of food into the room. Roger was still lying in bed, but he had thrown the top blanket off and was just under the sheet.  
  
"I brought you something to eat. It's a little early for dinner but you haven't eaten all day, so I thought, 'what the heck?'."  
  
"That's fine, leave it there."  
  
"Don't you want to know what happened in the dome?"  
  
"Not really." Roger said, sitting up.  
  
"Good, I knew you would. After I phoned him back to tell him you wouldn't be there, Dastun decided to take drastic measures." Norman took the lid off some steaming food items. "They shot rockets and missiles at it for a half hour then when that didn't work, they knocked a building onto it. This is in the middle of the day during the work week; needless to say the building was full of people. They pinned it to the ground where they shot torpedoes at it. They finally broke through the metal casing and were able to shut it down. Still many people died because you weren't there."  
  
"Did I know anybody who worked there?"  
  
"Probably not."  
  
"Then remind me why I care."  
  
"I just thought you should know." He said and exited the room. Roger gazed out the window as he ate his food.  
  
The rest of the week was about the same. Roger rarely got out of bed, and when he did it was only to see if Norman had fixed Dorothy yet.  
  
One day he sat staring at his easel. He looked at the half finished canvas and empty pallet. How sad it looked, unfinished and without its object of desire. He missed her, with all his heart.  
  
Walking over to the easel he picked up a new canvas and removed the old one. He squeezed several oil paints onto the pallet and picked up an unused brush. Strokes soon glided over the bareness, black, and red, green, blue; all colors he had in his head as he pictured her sitting at the grand piano, at his side. He missed the way she spoke to him, cutting him no slack. He missed the way she walked around the house, quietly without bothering him. He also missed the way she would play the piano, waking him up in the morning. He could hear it now, as though she was there.  
  
Roger stopped painting and listened to the piano solo in his head. It was so real in his ears; he could feel the vibrations under his feet of the keys striking the strings inside their wooden house. He looked around the canvas at the piano, and she was there.  
  
He looked back to his painting, then around at the piano; she was still there, continuing her tune.  
  
"Come here, Roger. I want to talk to you."  
  
"Dorothy?" His voice was barely above a whisper, his tongue thick and dry in his mouth.  
  
"Yes, Roger, come here." He nodded dumbly and ran to the piano bench, sitting down but careful not to touch her.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I'm here because you want me here."  
  
"How.what?"  
  
"It's okay. It's just the way you painted it.well.you're wearing nicer clothes in the painting."  
  
"I.I don't understand."  
  
"I'm here, because you painted me here." His breath became heavy as his hand crept to her neck. His eyes widened when his fingers touched the skin near her collar. It was warm! "The painting doesn't know I'm an android because in your mind I'm not."  
  
"I can't.believe this." Roger stammered. Both of his hands were on her, feeling her, verifying the impossible.  
  
"Shh." Dorothy put a finger to his lips to quiet him. "Just sit." She pulled him to her and lightly kissed his forehead. He began to sob and buried his face in her shoulder, letting her protect him.  
  
"I shouldn't have left you. You wanted to come; I should have let you come with me. This wouldn't have happened if."  
  
"If this, if that. There's nothing you could have done, accept it and let it be." He sat up; it was his turn to hold, to be the protector. She followed as his arms guided her to his chest.  
  
"You would never have let me do this yesterday."  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
"Why are you so human all of a sudden?" He asked with a laugh.  
  
"Because you want me to be."  
  
To be continued.  
  
  
  
A/N: Woo! Chapter two! I'd like to make 25 reviews before the next chapter. Can we do it, kids?! *kids all respond with a joyous "YES"* I knew we could. You hold up your end of the deal and I'll hold up mine. As always, comments, complaints are always welcome (as long as their done in a civil manner). 


	3. Words Are Meaningless

A/N: Hey! I just realized that this fic is almost a year old, and only has three chapters. Anyway, for those of you who were annoyed by the random periods that showed up between words in the last chapter, those were supposed to be three periods that signified a very long pause. I don't really know why they didn't show up. And in my closing thoughts, I put "their" instead of "they're". I know, I'm a loser.  
  
Roger suddenly pulled away from her. He didn't understand what she had just said. He looked at the ebony and ivory keys as he tried to comprehend the meaning of her words.  
  
"I have so many questions." He finally said.  
  
"Then ask."  
  
"Actually I don't know where to begin. There's just a big question mark in my mind. I was painting then all of a sudden you were here." He ran his hands through his hair in an effort to concentrate on the reality or unreality of his current position. "I guess it doesn't really matter how or why, does it?"  
  
"I'm not sure myself. I know I'm here, and I know that I'm not an android right now. I know that I know some things but I don't know what I know." She let out a frustrated sigh. "Ask me a question."  
  
"Why is the Earth round?" He said jokingly.  
  
"I come back and you're still a louse, Roger Smith." Dorothy smiled "It's not round; it's actually shaped like a hockey puck."  
  
"Who says?"  
  
"The Flat Earth Society. Now ask me a real question."  
  
"Why don't we go sit on something more comfortable? The bed maybe." He chuckled "Just to sit and talk."  
  
"Hmm. I don't know why, but that doesn't seem like a very good idea."  
  
"Of course it is. Here, I'll carry you over there." He put a hand under her knees and the other around her shoulders, like a groom with his new bride.  
  
"No, Roger, please put me down. I don't want to go over there."  
  
"You'll be fine." He hoisted her off the black piano bench and her arms tightened around his neck. He gave her a reassuring kiss on the forehead and turned to the bed.  
  
"I told you so." She said, and after two steps she was gone. Roger stopped and looked at his empty arms. Dorothy had just vanished into thin air. He turned around frantically and looked at the piano bench. Maybe if I sit back on the bench she'll show up. He thought.  
  
He jumped to the spot he had just occupied and touched the seat where she had been. It was cold. Had he imagined the whole thing? He looked back at the easel that was holding the painting that had come to life.  
  
He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped.  
  
"I told you so." Dorothy said as she ran her fingers over the nape of his neck. He smiled dumbly and bit his lower lip. She marveled at the collapse of his mental walls and stern demeanor as she began to rub his shoulders. This was a different man than the one she had known before.  
  
"Would you like to know what I think?" she asked. "I think that easel and those paints are the key. If you want me on the bed," her lips brushed his ear "paint me on the bed." And with that she vanished again.  
  
Roger sat on the end of the bench still as a statue. He was too confused to act. His eyes traveled to the door of his room. The shadows drew angular pictures on the white panels. He strode to it and turned the cold brass knob.  
  
His pace quickened as he turned corners and entered new corridors. The footsteps slowed as he approached his destination.  
  
"Yes sir, you did a fine job. No, I wasn't hurt." Roger could hear Norman talking as he entered his room. Norman jumped and slammed the phone, giving his friend a surprised look.  
  
"I thought you were asleep." He said after his initial shock wore off.  
  
"Actually I was painting. It was a picture of her sitting at the piano playing. Then suddenly I could hear the notes as if she were really there. I looked over at it and she was actually there, playing." His words became frantic and his hands were flying as if to accentuate his story. "Then we talked for a while and I tried to get her to sit on the bed, but she didn't want to and disappeared. I sat back down on the piano bench and she came back and told me that any painting I made would become real."  
  
"Sir, I think you should go back to bed."  
  
"Norman! I'm serious, she was there with me!" Sighing, Norman stood up and put his hands on the younger man's shoulders.  
  
"Listen," he said, turning Roger around "you dreamed this. People from paintings just don't show up where you painted them. I'll get you something to drink and you can go back to bed."  
  
"But."  
  
"No buts now go." Roger huffed and stomped off to his room. He couldn't believe Norman didn't believe him. She was real, she was there. He touched her and she touched him. This defied all the laws of physics, chemistry, and p.e. He'd done enough questioning for one day.  
  
He flung his doors open and crossed the wooden floor before face planting on his bed. His head turned towards the painting in front of the window and his eyes grew heavy.  
  
"See you in the morning." He whispered before falling asleep.  
  
To be continued.  
  
A/N: Umm.yeah.that was the third chapter. Short and sweet, hope you enjoyed it. I'm not going to make you give me a certain amount of reviews for the next chapter. Looking back on it, I've decided that it was an immature thing to do. But it did give me plenty of time to turn out this chapter. 


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